


Obscenity

by sternfleck



Series: Arcana Imperii [5]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Chancellor Hux, Humor, Hux has so many nice clothes, Hux is in charge, Kylo loves to get on his knees, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Soft Kylux, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, The Force Ships It, Throne Sex, Title Kink, but mostly it’s smut, i guess?, there are too many cheek kisses for it to be anything else, they're basically married and very in love, various other sex acts mentioned in the tabloids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:21:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23972938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternfleck/pseuds/sternfleck
Summary: The Chancellor and his Supreme Leader get intimate in the throne room while they read about their exploits in the tabloid news.Based on the “Duel of the Fates” leaked alternate script for Episode 9.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Arcana Imperii [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1694788
Comments: 13
Kudos: 76





	Obscenity

**Author's Note:**

> A very happy Star Wars Day to all of you. It is my pleasure to announce the arrival of the true spiritual and chronological sequel to [“Conquest”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23485099) (though this fic does stand alone). We return to the vibe of Imperial triumph and mutual affection. Their Empire is strong, and the news is...well, you’ll see.
> 
> This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to news websites in our galaxy is entirely coincidental. Ha.

Even the sentries are half asleep. At their stations, the palace guards’ signatures in the Force are subdued. The throne room is empty and dim, and the tiny sun of the Coruscant System has fallen far below the horizon. But behind the throne room’s locked doors, where no enemy surveillance can reach, the Chancellor’s face is bright in the blue light of his datapad, and, beside him, the Supreme Leader shares a measure of the glow.

 _Beside_ isn’t quite the right word to use. _Below him_ would be more accurate. The Supreme Leader sits on his throne, and Hux sits on the Supreme Leader, with Kylo’s arms thrown lazily around his waist. Hux is out of uniform, in a grey silk undershirt and a dark structured robe of heavy brocade. The open front of the robe gives Kylo access to Hux’s body. Occasionally Kylo will stroke Hux’s stomach, or his chest, or his thighs. Occasionally, he’ll pull Hux close and kiss his neck or his pretty pink mouth. But for the most part he lets Hux read aloud in peace. 

“Next, Supreme Leader, would you prefer a selection from _Hosnian Voice_? Or the new investigative piece from _Holdo_ magazine?” 

Kylo makes a face. “ _Holdo_ is a rag. They published an anonymous piece from General Organa. Sedition. I ordered you to have them shut down.”

“They’re all rags, Supreme Leader. That’s the point of this research.” There’s wicked pride in Hux’s glance. “We must know our enemies.”

This ritual of theirs is a rare indulgence. Hux finds promising headlines and reads the best pieces of the stories to Kylo. In spite of the total communications blockade between planetary systems, the underground news holosites persist. The Chancellor destroys most of them, but he allows a few to continue to publish their lies. His logic, as he’s described it to Kylo, is that it benefits the Order’s Empire to understand the attitudes of their adversaries in the Resistance. Propaganda, of course, is unreliable — no one knows that better than Hux, the First Order’s master propagandist — but many of the underground publications are less propagandistic and more...lewd.

Hux adjusts his position in Kylo’s lap. His movements create a pleasant friction, and Kylo hums with approval, pushing his hips against Hux’s ass. But Hux clicks his tongue, chiding him.

“We’ve hardly begun. You haven’t even heard the headline. Be a good boy for me and control your lust, Supreme Leader.”

Kylo fixes Hux with an arrogant, heavy-lidded gaze. “You have lust too.”

“Certainly.” Hux darts to kiss Kylo’s scarred cheek. “But I also have patience. The imaginations of the Resistance have been particularly vivid of late. The time we spend will not be wasted.”

Kylo needs no convincing. He stretches, relaxing back onto his throne with his arms flung wide. “Regale me, then, Chancellor. What new filth have our enemies invented about us?”

Hux clears his throat in his prim, affected way that makes Kylo want to rail him until Hux is begging for a hand on his cock to help him come. To keep from giving in to this impulse, Kylo makes a quick scan of the planet’s surface through the Force, to distract himself. It’s the best way to maintain self-control, especially when Hux lifts his eyes from his datapad and looks at Kylo as though he knows every filthy thought in Kylo’s head.

Hux drops his gaze to the holosite page.

“ _Holdo_ explores a claim that you maintain a harem of many species for your personal use. Here in the Order Capitol, no less. Hardly original of them. As if you’d have any interest in such worthless pursuits.” 

Kylo would contradict this assessment, but Hux is right. He knows Kylo too well. The Supreme Leader has scant interest in sex outside his bond with Hux. Desultory pleasures blunt Kylo’s connection to the Force, while his arrangement with the Chancellor only sharpens his powers. He’s never understood why Hux is the exception, but Kylo isn’t one to question the power of the Dark Side. He’s won the Galaxy with Hux next to him, after all.

As Hux scrolls through the article, his eyebrows draw together.

“The writer seems to be under the impression you favour women, Supreme Leader. Are you sure this magazine is in direct contact with General Organa? Wouldn’t she set them straight? Or, the opposite, rather.” Hux snorts a half-laugh at his own weak joke and leans back against Kylo’s chest, his expression intimate.

Kylo scowls, even as he brushes his nose along the streak of grey in Hux’s hair with affection. As if his mother ever gave a thought to his love life, back when he was supposed to become a Jedi and swear off all attachments. And now the Resistance fighters think he takes his pleasure with harem slaves. No dignity for Kylo in other people’s judgments, not in his youth nor now, in his thirty-eighth year.

“Next article, Chancellor. _Hosnian Voice._ ” 

The _Voice_ is the oldest and most respectable of the banned news holosites. They deliver articles that, more than a few times, have led to hints of the whereabouts of Resistance operatives. Hux’s lightblade guillotine has been well-supplied with prisoners thanks to the indiscretion of the _Voice_ ’s contributors. But Kylo doesn’t think of it as a site that would deliver any story appropriate for their late-night reading. 

“‘Wild Knights’ is their headline,” Hux says, nearly managing to keep mirth out of his voice. “That’s Knights with a K. ‘S _upreme Leader and Henchmen In Polyamorous Cult With Chancellor_.’ Ah, I’m in this story. I like it already.”

“You want my Knights to fuck you?” Kylo teases, sliding his hand up Hux’s leg. “Hattaska might like that idea. She sends me your image through the Force when she sees you around the Capitol.”

“I’m certain that’s for your pleasure, Ren, not hers. She’s loyal, like all your Knights. They know what pleases you.”

Hux falls silent as Kylo’s hand lands at the soft inside of his thigh, stroking him. He arches his back, spreading his legs for Kylo’s touch.

“Go on, Chancellor,” Kylo prompts, his fingers drifting higher. “I’m in suspense. Tell me what the Rebels think my Knights are doing to you.”

“Ah, Supreme Leader, you can’t expect me to, _fuck_ , to read to you when you’re teasing me like this.” Hux buries his face in Kylo’s neck, his breaths hot and fast on Kylo’s skin. 

With a last rough squeeze to Hux’s thigh, Kylo relents. “You’re too easy to tease. You’d bend over for any of my Knights as long as I was there to tell you it was for the good of the Order. You would do anything for our Empire, wouldn’t you, Chancellor?”

Hux responds with a hiss of pleasure. He wiggles in Kylo’s lap. The pressure on his erection draws a rough gasp from the Supreme Leader’s lips, but Hux doesn’t abate. He moves with torturous slowness until Kylo’s gasp turns to a whine. A sharp pleasure seethes up through Kylo’s core, and for half a second, the Force signatures of every lover on Coruscant flare bright in the black behind Kylo’s eyes.

When Kylo’s knuckles whiten on the broad stone arm of the throne, the Chancellor relents, satisfied with his revenge for Kylo’s tease. He reads on.

“ _An anonymous source inside the Capitol Palace has revealed that the Knights of Ren, the elite death squad of Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, participate in erotic Dark Side rituals with the Supreme Leader himself, as well as with the notorious Chancellor Armitage Hux, destroyer of the Hosnian System._ ”

“You’re notorious,” Kylo interrupts, with a kiss to Hux’s temple. “You’ve been bad, Chancellor. I should spank you. Once for each planet you’ve destroyed. But the list is so long now. Can you count that high?”

Hux’s eyes fall shut at the thought. He makes a sound halfway between a laugh and a moan, and he squirms in Kylo’s lap again. Kylo aches, but the ache is sweet. He doesn’t want fulfilment yet, not when it’s this much fun to drag things out for himself and for Hux.

With effort, Hux evens out his breathing and returns to his datapad.

“They...they say your Knights are all men. And that I’m some sort of sacred prostitute for your Force powers. You take me to a Sith temple to lay me among the smoke and ashes. My eyes go white and I speak ancient Dark prophecies while all seven of you, well. You can imagine. The article is regrettably short on detail.”

“You don’t have command of the Force,” Kylo protests. “That’s not how the Force works. You can’t just fuck it into somebody.”

Hux fixes him with a freezing glare. “You’ve hit upon the great misfortune of my life, Supreme Leader.”

“I would, Hux. I would if I could.” Kylo nuzzles the side of Hux’s head. “I’d fuck you so hard you’d have lightning coming from your fingertips. Would you like that? Absolute power, Emperor?”

It’s a nickname that never fails to make Hux leak for Kylo’s touch. Hux twists, pressing his back against Kylo’s chest and twitching his hips up. It’s a wordless answer to Kylo’s question.

“Stars, Ren, ah, isn’t that heresy for your beliefs, or something like that?”

The top of Hux’s ear is pink with a sweet flush, so Kylo bites it, and Hux moans an oath.

“No. This is my Empire. I make the new traditions. The old ways are no more.”

“Destroying the past. That’s my Supreme Leader,” Hux says wryly, as he settles back into Kylo’s arms.

Kylo wraps his arms around Hux’s middle, kissing the nape of his neck when he turns back to his reading. The Chancellor’s glossy hair is clean from the regulation soap he insists on using to wash, in spite of the collection of luxurious shampoos and balms Kylo brings back to him from Chandrila and Naboo. He smells like an officer, and when Kylo darts out his tongue to sneak a taste, Hux’s hair tastes the way it did when he was a general. Familiar, in spite of all that has changed in the years since the Galaxy fell under their power.

“Our next article, Supreme Leader, is from the _Daily Comm._ ” 

Kylo rolls his eyes. The _Daily Comm_ is technically among the banned news holosites, but it’s not run by the Resistance. In fact, it’s so sympathetic to the Order that it more or less serves as a second source of regime propaganda. More than sympathy for the Order, though, the _Daily Comm_ has sympathy for the Chancellor. At least twice weekly, they run articles in praise of Hux’s visionary leadership, his prowess as an engineer, even his fine features and his attire. 

A recent article in the _Comm_ advised readers of all genders and species on how to “get the look,” with glimpses into the Chancellor’s private wardrobe. Hux denied leaking the photos himself, but Kylo didn’t have to read his mind to know that was a lie. No one else but the Supreme Leader has ever seen the full extent of Hux’s lavish collection of coats and capes. Hux gasped with delight when the article was posted, and quoted it endlessly. “ _Chancellor of Style_ ,” was the headline. “ _The Supreme Leader’s second-in-command takes our breath away with his elegance at every public appearance. With exclusive photos, we reveal the more exquisite side of the First Order._ ” Kylo resents the fact that he’s heard this enough to have it memorised. 

“Tell me it’s not another article about how perfect you are.”

“Of course it is, Supreme Leader. The _Daily Comm_ reports only the truth. Why, are you envious that our subjects adore me?” 

Kylo scowls into Hux’s soft hair. “They fear me. It’s better to be feared than to be loved.”

“There’s no doubt I’m feared as well. Why not have both? See, this article has an image from one of my public executions. They call my hologram ‘a terrifying and radiant vision of justice done.’”

“That’s stupid,” Kylo grouses. “Who writes this stuff? Cadets?”

“People with taste, Ren. You wouldn’t understand.” But Hux tips his head back and kisses Kylo’s open mouth, long and deep and hot and slow.

Kylo lets his lips drift down to Hux’s soft jaw, then his neck. Wet kisses, one after another, tasting the soap and salt of Hux’s skin. Hux’s hands form fists on the arms of their throne, and his words fall apart into helpless moans and whines.

“Kylo, ah, Supreme Leader,” Hux breathes. His body tenses and relaxes with every messy kiss. He’s so sensitive, even after he’s had years to get used to Kylo’s touch. Kylo laces his arms tighter around Hux’s waist, stroking his stomach. He sucks a bruise into the soft flesh of Hux’s neck, where the mark won’t be quite hidden beneath the Chancellor’s uniform collar.

“Ah, yes, yes, Kylo, that’s good, my good Supreme Leader, ah, stars, fuck, _nnh_.” 

Kylo pulls back, nuzzling the damp spot of shadow he’s left on Hux’s skin.

“Keep reading, Hux. But not the _Comm_. Something for both of us.” 

Hux shakes his head. When he speaks, his breathing is ragged.

“But you’ll like this article. Here. ‘ _Short Leash for SL Kylo? Proof that Chancellor Hux is the power behind the throne._ ’”

“You’re not behind the throne,” Kylo points out, slipping his hand beneath Hux’s ass and squeezing. “You’re on it with me. The _Daily Comm_ knows nothing of our ways.” 

Hux turns sideways on Kylo’s lap, bracing his feet against an arm of the throne and lifting up from Kylo’s lap to give him more access. Kylo gives Hux a swat over his robe, and Hux hisses through his teeth. He wants more, wants Kylo’s hands on him and in him so badly that his desire rings through the Force like a string of pleading words.

But Kylo, with great effort, restrains himself, and lets Hux settle on his lap again. As much as he wants Hux, he wants to hear the rest of the news, too.

“Short leash,” he prompts. “Do they have a picture of me in a collar?”

“No, but someone’s done an illustration of us.” Hux lets out a triumphant little laugh. “See? You’re on your knees, kissing my ring.”

“That’s treason,” says Kylo, even as he draws Hux’s hand to his mouth and flicks his tongue over the Order emblem stamped into Hux’s hexagonal signet ring. The metal is warm as skin, and tastes like a weapon. The Supreme Leader doesn’t need rings — they thwart his dexterity in combat — but Kylo gave this one to Hux when he made him his Chancellor, and, to Kylo’s surprise, Hux wears it always.

“It’s journalism,” Hux counters. He watches the Supreme Leader lavish wet kisses on the back of his hand, up to his narrow wrist. “It’s accurate. Surely, even in our Empire, the people have a right to a glimpse of the truth.”

Kylo lifts his head. “You only want the truth when it favours you.”

“The truth does favour me, Kylo. I’m an excellent leader, my brilliance is unmatched, and I only look better with age. I’m powerful and adored. I’ve gotten everything I wanted in life.”

“Thanks to me,” Kylo reminds him, sliding the ring up and down Hux’s finger.

“Hmm,” says Hux noncommittally. He scrolls on his datapad to a new article. “Yours is a short leash, don’t forget. You’ve been an asset to my success, not the sole determinant of it.”

Kylo pouts. Even sitting on the same throne, Hux won’t admit how much they need each other, and always have.

“I could have you demoted just for thinking that.”

Frowning, Hux sets his datapad down decisively on his narrow thighs. He loops his arms around Kylo’s neck, lifts his face to Kylo’s jaw, and slowly kisses along the line of it. Hux’s fingers weave into Kylo’s hair. He combs through it, not rough, but not gentle, either. Then Hux brings his hands to Kylo’s throat, sliding his thumbs up the column of it. Hux’s grip is authoritative even as he kisses Kylo softly over every part of his face he can reach.

“You could demote me,” Hux whispers between kisses. “But you won’t. You could have cast me aside or killed me at any time along the way. You gave me the Galaxy instead, Kylo. The _Comm_ ’s articles frustrate you because you want to be the only one who gives me the glory I deserve.”

When Hux says his name, Kylo’s eyes fall shut, wanting. Hux doesn’t often put his hands on Kylo, preferring to be touched, but Kylo is weak for Hux’s slender fingers on his throat, pressing with just enough weight to remind him that Hux, like Kylo, is dangerous.

He leans into Hux’s touch, wordlessly asking for more. But with a last kiss to the bridge of Kylo’s nose, Hux pulls away and returns to his reading.

“I see _Sentients_ has an article alleging we intend to start a family. You’ll like that one.” 

_Sentients_ is even splashier than the Daily Comm, with a strain of sentiment that Hux detests. The writers at _Sentients_ speculate on the softer side of life in the Order: love affairs between officers, unplanned pregnancies, petty infidelities. Hux gives Kylo grief for his interest in family matters, but that’s because Hux is a bitter orphan raised by droids. In Kylo’s opinion, the articles in _Sentients_ bring a human side to the regime's public image, even if their intel is laughably wrong. 

“ _The Supreme Leader and his Chancellor were spotted this week at an adoption clinic on Centax 3. The buzz is that the two commanders of the First Order are locking down some succession plans. An Imperial Baby may be on the way! Will the brand new heir to the Empire hail from Chandrila, like the Supreme Leader? Or will he be an Outer Rim native like Chancellor Hux, a man of mystery whose true roots are anybody’s guess?_ "

The New Republic words are absurd in Hux’s crisp Imperial accent. As soon as he finishes the opening paragraph, Hux says, indignant, “‘He?’ They think we’d adopt? And get a boy?”

“You don’t want a son, Hux?”

“Never. Boys are loathsome creatures. A girl, a brilliant girl who will grow up to be like Grand Admiral Sloane or Commander Sellik. That’s what the Order needs. But I don’t want a family at all,” he says hastily, to keep Kylo from getting any more of the ideas he’s already been entertaining for years.

“Come on, Hux. A son for me and a daughter for you, to rule after us. We don’t have to adopt them. There are ways to make biological children.”

“I will not be party to any continuation of the Skywalker dynasty, Ren. When we select our successors, we must put skill and talent over family ties. There are many young Order officers who show great promise.”

“We could clone ourselves.”

Hux rounds on him in exasperation. “We are not cloning anyone, at any time, least of all ourselves. I barely tolerate you in your adult form. No children, no family, not ever. This discussion is over. Here...” He scrolls through his datapad with deliberate focus. “The Resistance have updated their secret blog. A new instalment of the ribald adventures of Chancellor Hugs and the Obscene Leader.”

A wave of rage overtakes Kylo, contorting his face. “Don’t they have better stuff to do than come up with fake stories about what we do in bed?”

“Have pity, Supreme Leader. It’s a lonely life in exile. Nothing to do, day after wretched day. They must tire of the same old faces on the Resistance Base. It’s flattering that they show such an attraction to us in our private lives.”

Kylo sneers. “I bet it’s the scavenger. Or that pilot who’s obsessed with you.”

“As long as it’s not your mother.” Hux makes a face. “What a story they’ve given us this time. They have me in silk knickers and stockings, bound and gagged, with one of your filthy gloves in my mouth. Entirely at your mercy. You’re degrading me with the most profane words. Do they intend this to humiliate me? As if unconventional sexual practices between consenting adults are some sort of war crime.”

“I would try that,” Kylo supplies, sliding his hand around Hux’s waist to stroke his midriff. Hux already dresses up for Kylo on special occasions, but the glove idea is a new one, and Kylo likes it.

Hux sniffs. “You know I prefer to be in control.”

“You could give me orders in my head, with the Force. Tell me exactly what to do.”

“Listen to this. ‘ _Obscene Leader Kylo Ben raised his lightsaber, which was a red lightsaber, like the blood of slain Resistance heroes. Chancellor Hugs begged for mercy' —_ how am I begging if I’m gagged? _— 'but the Obscene Leader was as cruel to his number one First Order slut as he is to the Galaxy. With his murdering hands, he brought the lightsaber down on the Chancellor’s skinny buttocks and spanked him with it._ ’ I’m not skinny,” Hux protests. “I’m svelte. And it’s not possible to spank someone with a lightsaber. How do they think lightsabers work?!”

Kylo can only gaze at Hux for a long moment, trying to keep the smirk off his lips. Finally, when Hux raises his eyebrows enquiringly, Kylo says, “Number one First Order slut.”

Hux scoffs even as his pupils flare. But his scoff turns to a moan when Kylo’s fingers circle Hux’s nipples through the thin silk of his undershirt.

“You always say you only spread your legs for the good of our Empire, Chancellor. The Rebel scum are right for once, aren’t they? You’re a good slut for the First Order. Giving everything to your Supreme Leader. Everything from these pretty tits to your slick hole.”

Hux’s eyes are black, cheeks flushed, hips stuttering towards a touch that isn’t there. “I’ll do anything for the Galaxy, Supreme Leader. I’ll make any sacrifice. I’ll even endure your insults to my virtue.”

Kylo lowers his mouth to Hux’s neck. “Slutty Chancellor,” he whispers. “Who would guess that the prim, proper Chancellor Hux loves to take my big cock for the sake of the Order?”

“Ah, nnh, well, the Resistance would, apparently. It’s an open secret at this point, isn’t it?” Hux pushes his chest up into Kylo’s hands. When Kylo grazes his nipples again, Hux keens with need, biting his lip. His head falls back, brushing the stone arm of the throne. Under his structured robe, his silk shorts must be soaked through by now.

“You believe everyone in the Galaxy knows you're begging for my cock?”

With effort, Hux shakes his head. “I believe everyone in the Galaxy knows you give me exactly what I ask for, Kylo. Everything you do to me is at my discretion. You can’t even claim to be serving the Order. You serve me.”

Kylo’s face flares hot with a torturous blend of shame and desire. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath down to the pit of his stomach, like he’s beginning a Dark meditation. Hux’s warm weight rests in the perfect place on his lap. It would be too easy to let go, to grind his hips against Hux until he spent himself. But then he’d miss his chance to join his body with Hux’s, to unite with him as their spirits are united in the Force.

“ _BuzzComm,_ ” says Hux, his voice unsteady with lust. “Our next selection. Let’s see what they have for us. They’re always colourful in their reporting.”

Colourful is putting it mildly. Last standard month, _BuzzComm_ ran a story alleging that Kylo had held a multi-species orgy in the scorched ruins of Coruscant’s Jedi temple. Before that, they were obsessed with speculations about Hux’s anatomy, after an anonymous source claimed to have evidence that the Chancellor was partially of xeno descent. Hux found the idea amusing, if odd, and has followed _BuzzComm_ ’s articles ever since. 

“‘ _Gay rights, but only for the Supreme Leader,_ ” Hux reads. “ _How the First Order treats the rest of the Galaxy as second-class._ ’”

“The rest of the Galaxy _is_ second-class,” Kylo points out. “We’re better. That’s why we rule everyone else.” 

Hux scrolls through the article. “They’re taking an unfair perspective. Do they think we’re the only same-sex couple in the Order? Commander Sellik has a wife, for stars’ sake! The bulk of High Command are gay. Your Knights! Your Knights are all lesbians, Ren.”

“It’s _BuzzComm_ , Hux. It’s junk. Fake news. It would be more trouble for us if they had their facts right. Their ignorance is evidence of our absolute power.” 

Hux sighs and scrolls away from the offending piece. “I didn’t build Grand Admiral Sloane’s Empire all the way to kriffing Coruscant to be accused of oppressing my own officers. Oh. Here. This article...this one is much better.”

With a sly smirk, Hux presses the screen of his datapad, and a hologram rises from the small projector at the top. 

It’s Hux. That much is clear at a glance. Viewed from the side, his sideburns are unmistakeable even in shimmering blue. But he’s not in uniform. He’s in a tailored coat with a resplendent collar of long, lush fur. His heeled boots stop at his thighs, just below the hem of his coat. In his hand, the little hologram of Hux holds a lightsaber hilt with the blade un-ignited. The hologram flickers, and a figure appears at the Chancellor’s feet, undressed, kneeling, the hilt of the lightsaber pressed beneath his chin.

“They’ve done a decent job altering my holo,” Hux comments. “Better than their usual pathetic efforts.”

“That looks nothing like me,” Kylo snarls. “They got some cheap holoporn star to pose. He’s weak. He doesn’t even have real scars.”

“According to the article, this holo was obtained as part of an investigation by a Resistance agent. It was intended as blackmail, though I don’t see how it serves that end to release their fake footage to the Galaxy. Perhaps they’ve abandoned their original plans.”

As they watch, the holo of Hux combs his fingers back through Kylo’s hair, forcing his head upright with the lightsaber hilt. There’s no sound. Hux’s lips are moving, saying something to the Kylo at his feet. Hux has a smug expression on his face, and even in the tiny hologram, the reverence in Kylo’s eyes is clear. Then the hologram of Hux opens his coat and lifts one finger from the ‘saber hilt to beckon Kylo forward. In profile, no skin is visible, but when the holo of Hux throws his head back and fists his free hand in Kylo’s hair, the implication is clear.

“You’re a good boy for me even in the fantasies of the Rebel scum,” Hux murmurs, curling against Kylo’s chest with his head tucked under the Supreme Leader’s chin.

Kylo watches the holo, his mouth dry. He hates to look at himself, even a fake version, but with the imposter’s face hidden behind Hux’s coat, the holo is more than tolerable. He imagines servicing Hux on his knees, as he’s done countless times, with the Chancellor’s hands in his hair and arrogant words on his lips. The taste of Hux’s sweat, the heat of him, the way Hux thrusts into his throat with no regard for Kylo’s comfort, because he knows Kylo has strength enough to take all he can give.

Hux lifts his head to study Kylo’s face. “You like the idea?”

He sets his datapad aside and unbuttons his brocaded robe, letting it fall open over his silk shorts. They’re not stained with pre-come as Kylo thought they would be. No, Hux is too fastidious for that. He’s tucked his stiff cock under his waistband and pulled up his undershirt to keep from leaking on the hem. The crescent of pale stomach between shorts and shirt is glistening wet.

“You can suck me if you want, Supreme Leader. But you’ll need to give up your seat.”

Kylo is silent, staring, barely listening. The sight of Hux dressed in finery, offering himself, his cock pink and pretty and achingly hard...somehow, Kylo never gets used to it.

“Did you hear me? I need to sit where you’re sitting. I can’t fuck your mouth if I’m in your lap.”

It’s a transparent power play — the Chancellor on the throne, the Supreme Leader on his knees — but Kylo craves it, even as he scorns himself for indulging Hux’s foolish fantasies. Kylo rises from his seat, lifting Hux in his arms, and Hux, with a pleased gasp, clings to Kylo’s neck even when Kylo deposits him on the throne. Hux kisses his scarred cheek, his kiss-swollen lips.

“Well done, Supreme Leader,” he whispers into the air between their mouths.

Kylo drops to his knees in front of Hux. The stone dais where his throne rests is cold, rough. His knees will bruise purple, all because he can’t keep from worshipping the man who should be his enemy, his rival for absolute power in the First Order. But Hux makes an enchanting noise as Kylo tugs Hux’s shorts down and grips his pale thighs. It’s worth anything to draw those noises out of Hux.

Bending forward, Kylo wets his lips. But fingertips on his forehead stop his progress. Mouth open, he glances up. Hux regards him with an expression of cool fondness. He slides his hand back from Kylo’s forehead, petting his hair.

“There are two tasks I require from your filthy mouth before you can have your reward, Supreme Leader.”

Typical Hux, to even turn sex into a task list. But the joke is on Kylo, because at Hux’s gentle, condescending tone, his cock twitches so hard it makes him wince.

“What do you want?” Kylo growls.

Hux, with a frown, tugs Kylo’s hair just enough for the threat to be clear.

“Rudeness to your Emperor, Supreme Leader? Have you no respect for the progress you’ve made in my name? The battles won? The lives sacrificed to win the Galaxy for me?”

Kylo exhales sharply, and licks his bottom lip to slick it again. It shouldn’t turn him on to gaze up at Hux on his throne, half-dressed and smirking like his very presence there is a gift to all. But this is the curse of life as Supreme Leader Kylo Ren. To have more power than any sentient being in Galactic history, and to get off on giving it all to this grasping, smug, naïve, Force-null idiot who might, just might deserve it.

That last thought comes as Hux brings his signet ring to Kylo’s lips and, again, strokes Kylo’s hair. The metal of the ring clicks against Kylo’s teeth — Hux isn’t being careful where he puts his hand — and Kylo is weak, so kriffing weak for Hux, Hux could tell him to do anything and he’d —

“Go on,” Hux hisses. “Kiss my ring. Tell me you’ve done all of this for me, Kylo.”

Kylo moans against Hux’s slender fingers. The skin of his hand is silk-soft and cool. But Kylo’s mouth is hot, and when he kisses the Chancellor’s ring, the heat of his lips will transfer to it.

He flashes his eyes up to Hux’s, and, at the same time, extends his Force-awareness to read Hux’s emotions. Kylo is putting on a show, after all. He deserves to know the reaction of his audience.

He expects icy triumph from Hux. Hux has won, after all. He has the seat of power, and Kylo is bent in worship before him like a common palace guard. But instead, the feelings rolling off of Hux are incandescent. Desire as strong and hot as solar wind, and underneath, down where even Hux wouldn’t recognise it, the thinnest thread of some other sentiment. Gratitude. Wonder.

For the sake of their game, Hux is holding back with all his self-control. But he doesn’t want to hold back. He wants to bury himself in Kylo and tangle his cold hands in soft black hair. He wants to cry out Kylo’s name again and again. In the secret dark of Hux’s mind, the word flickers pulsar-bright.

Tightening his grip, Kylo drags Hux’s thighs apart and pulls Hux forward towards his mouth. But Hux hisses in protest, even as his cock bounces and flings a drip of pre-come onto Kylo’s forehead. He stops Kylo with his hand.

“Not yet. Eager. I want you to beg.”

Kylo snarls. “You should beg me. You want this. I can feel it in the Force. You need me.”

Hux draws back, his face haughty. He lays two fingers on Kylo’s cheek and taps, like the lightest teasing threat of a slap.

“If you’re not going to be good, I’ll fuck my hand. It won’t take long. I’ll make myself come, and I won’t let you have a drop.” With a smirk that hits Kylo like a rough kiss, Hux adds, “Supreme Leader.”

“Please, Hux. You want this. Let me swallow you. I’ve given you everything.”

“My title, Ren. Give our Empire the respect it deserves. Use my title, use your manners, and tell me exactly what you want.”

 _Fuck_. Hux is terrible, the worst person in the Galaxy by far, and so damned good at this it makes Kylo’s head spin. He bares his teeth, even as he knows he’ll follow Hux’s orders, as he always does.

“Please, Emperor.” Kylo spits the word, as if a performance of reluctance can restore his long-abandoned dignity. “Please use my mouth, Emperor Hux. I want to make you come.”

Hux’s eyes gleam with a bright joy that spreads through the Force around him, fine and pure.

“Well. Go on, then. But don’t forget the difference between us, Kylo. I asked you to conquer the Galaxy for me, and you asked me to come down your throat.”

Kylo would curse Hux for this vile insubordination, but his mouth is already full. Hux gasps as Kylo takes him to the root, opens for him, buries his nose in the neat patch of trimmed hair above Hux’s cock. Hux tastes like salt and smells like sweat and pre-come and silk and his cheap harsh Order-issue soap. Kylo could lose himself in the taste of Hux forever, like one of those Dark Side masters who meditate for decades upon one terrible act. And of course that’s sacrilege, but it doesn’t feel like sacrilege when he’s on his knees and Hux is murmuring praises sweeter than any Dark mysteries Kylo has ever heard through the Force.

Hux thrusts roughly, his hips bucking against his will, but Kylo is ready for it and doesn’t gag. He licks up the underside of Hux’s cock, a broad stroke that pauses just below the head, teasing him. Hux cries out, ragged, wordless. When Kylo meets his eyes, rounding his lips and flickering his tongue, Hux curses. His hands are tight on the seat of the throne, arms pressed to his sides. He shuts his eyes tight, and when Kylo takes him halfway, soft-mouthed and open, Hux twitches his nose in that way that’s perfectly Hux.

“You’re — you’re so much better at this than, ah, than you are at ruling the, _kriff_ , the Galaxy, Kylo. Why don’t you do this all the — all the time?” 

Kylo pauses, blinks up at Hux. He draws back his lips, showing his sharp white teeth.

Hux only throws his head back and grips the edge of the throne tighter, as if Kylo’s empty threat, too, enthrals him.

In the Force, in his head, Hux is begging already, a string of pleas and praises. But it takes only a few more swirls of Kylo’s tongue before Hux speaks his mind.

“Please, Kylo, ah, your fingers. I need something inside me. I need to come, please, _please_ , you’ve been so good, ah, Kylo.” 

If Kylo were ever to ask himself why he wastes his time with Hux, this would be his answer. When Hux is on the edge, flushed and dark-eyed and needy, he’s not insufferable at all. He’s intense, with a vulnerability to him that’s almost sweet. His hair is falling out of its style. The streak of grey threatens to tumble across his forehead. His lips are pink, parted, and each breath comes out as a soft moan.

Kylo palms himself through his leggings. He doesn’t have permission from Hux, but what does it matter? He’s the Supreme Leader. If Hux has a problem with Kylo getting himself off, he’ll have to get over it. Hux is too gorgeous like this, too undone. Kylo needs to come in his pants while he swallows Hux down.

“Please, didn’t you hear me? Don’t make me wait. Fuck, nnh, I’ve been aching for you for hours, Kylo, please, use the Force if you have to, anything.”

The impulse to kiss Hux rises in Kylo, strong and strange, and for a flickering second Kylo wishes they’d chosen to do this in bed rather than on the throne. When he gets Hux to bed, he’ll cover Hux’s body with his and kiss him until he’s helpless and clinging tight to Kylo’s shoulders.

Hux is still pleading, sinking down, offering himself. Kylo slides his free hand up Hux’s thighs and, taking Hux’s cock to the back of his throat, he pushes his thumb against the smooth skin between Hux's sac and his hole. Hux chokes on a moan and, at last, puts his hands into Kylo’s hair, stroking him. It’s so good, so fucking perfect the way Hux touches him.

Kylo moans around Hux's cock and swirls his thumb over Hux’s hole, and at the smallest push of the Force inside him, Hux comes, hot slick salt on Kylo’s tongue. Kylo swallows it all, even as he palms his cock until his own orgasm overtakes him, wild and Dark.

When Kylo returns to himself, Hux is bent, his face near Kylo’s hair. Kylo pulls away from Hux’s softening cock with a last long lick to the head, where it’s too sensitive. Hux whines. Kylo leans up to kiss him, chaste, just a brush of their lips together. Hux’s eyes are hazy, bereft of their usual schemes. When they kiss, Hux again runs his hand through Kylo’s tresses.

Hux sits back. Kylo rests his cheek against Hux’s thigh, basking in the afterglow. Hux’s pleasure always lingers after he comes, and Kylo feels it through the Force. Every few seconds, the muscles of Hux’s belly twitch as another weak spasm passes through him. Kylo is sticky in his leggings, and his lips are swollen and sore. As usual, he’s let his Chancellor make a mess of him.

“Come here,” says Hux after a moment, imperious.

Kylo glances up to his face in surprise. Hux always wants Kylo on his knees, especially in the throne room. He’d never waste a chance to exult in his own power. But Hux only nods, encouraging, and pats the space beside him on the throne.

“I’m getting cold,” he says tersely, as if that will explain his desire away.

Kylo rises to his feet. His bruised knees ache and his calves sting with pins and needles. He wipes his wet mouth with his tunic sleeve. Hux bites the edge of his lip at the sight, and his nose twitches again. Stars, Hux, now, in the aftermath. There’s still that vulnerability to his features. His defences softened, his walls down.

When Kylo sits beside him, Hux curls close, his face buried in Kylo’s neck. He tangles his long legs with Kylo’s, and pulls his silk shorts up his thighs again. Kylo runs a hand down Hux’s back, over his unyielding robe. At his touch, Hux curls closer.

“You were very good,” he whispers, words distorted where they land against Kylo’s skin. “Good Kylo.”

Praise. His name. No title. Kylo thrills to hear it. This is progress for Hux, this more intimate disrespect.

Kylo relaxes back against his throne. When he extends his arms along the sides, he notices Hux’s datapad, the screen dark. The foolish words of their enemies return to Kylo’s mind, and he grimaces. Obscene Leader, indeed.

If he wanted, he could send his Force awareness out over Coruscant. He could see the whole Galaxy from here, every subjugated planet, every blockaded system. The Dark opens easily to show Kylo all of his domain. But Hux is more worthy of immediate attention. His quick little heartbeat is star-bright in the Force, as though it was made for Kylo to listen in on. And Hux’s mind, for once, is empty of everything but drowsy pleasure and the warmth of Kylo’s skin.

If the Resistance could see what Kylo sees, if they could see through the Force how Kylo is joined with Hux, would that bond be another joke for their tabloids? Probably. That’s why the Rebels are his enemies. They're frivolous. They take nothing seriously. It won’t be long before Kylo will have to face them, to awe their weak minds with the superior power of the Dark Side. This tense peace can’t last. Kylo never forgets the battle that waits for him in the future, not even in the aftermath of pleasure, not even with Hux in his arms.

He’ll win. He’s never lost. This is his war, their war, the one they’ve won together. Supreme Leader and Chancellor. Suppressed planets, blazing weapons. Silence and starlight. Sharp technology united with the Dark Side's brutal might. The Resistance may ridicule him for his bond with Hux, but their disrespect ignites hatred in Kylo, and hatred is Dark power. This power will ensure his final victory.

“You’re brooding again,” Hux whispers, glancing up. “This was meant to be a diversion for our evening.”

Kylo shakes his head to clear it. “Was thinking about our enemies.”

“Don’t. They’re of no consequence. Our power is unassailable. They mock us because they have no recourse.”

Hux lays his finger on Kylo’s lower lip, skating the tip over his bottom teeth. It’s a proprietary gesture, but a comforting one. Kylo throws a sidelong glance to meet Hux’s eyes.

“We’ll win in the end,” Kylo says. “They know we will. Their hope is in vain.”

Hux laughs, a sharp snort. “They have no hope, Supreme Leader. The Galaxy is ours. We’ve already won.”

Perhaps Hux is right. Perhaps their Empire will endure forever. When the Chancellor puts his lips to Kylo’s cheek, Kylo sends a silent wish through the Force, and closes his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> It’s all fun and games until someone loses the star wars.
> 
> Hattaska Ren and Commander Sellik are real characters in the leaked script. Hattaska is Kylo’s head Knight (who wields a darksaber!) and Sellik is Hux’s second-in-command.
> 
> Kylux but every time I post a new fic they’re more into each other. At this rate by June they’ll be snuggling and braiding each other’s hair.
> 
> The silk set Hux is wearing is [La Perla](https://www.laperla.com/us/silk-silver-silk-pajama-shorts-cfilpd0020290-grc121.html).
> 
> I'm on twitter at [sternfleck](https://twitter.com/sternfleck).


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